


le boute en train

by onlyacoffee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyacoffee/pseuds/onlyacoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>boute en train</i>, n.m., french. a fun person, a person who cheers others up, who brings warmth in a society.</p>
            </blockquote>





	le boute en train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eirenical (chibi1723)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi1723/gifts).



> written for eirenical over on tumblr!

“No..!” Courfeyrac whined through his painfully rough throat, watching from the couch as Combeferre began unbuttoning his coat. “No. You’re not staying. Go, please. Pretty please?”

Combeferre stared down at him, unimpressed.

“I am staying, though. I’m going to take care of you,” he said it like he said everything else; as if it was fact, pure and simple fact, and he was slightly shocked, if not offended, that Courfeyrac would even doubt it.

Courfeyrac shook his head as much as his sore muscles and his position, lying on his side, would allow. It hurt, and he felt sick. He could breathe easier now, but his limbs felt like lead and his heart like a heavy, ugly stone between his ribs. He knew it would feel this way for at least a couple of days, days he’d rather spend sleeping, hiding from the world, pretending he didn’t have to exist. He didn’t feel like arguing. He especially didn’t feel like arguing with Combeferre.

“You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks,” Courfeyrac murmured, trying to will his eyes dry so he could meet his friend’s gaze. “Go and enjoy it. Please. For me?”

His begging - his sad, pathetic begging - had no effect.

“I’d rather spend the night with you,” Combeferre said, voice soft and steady and utterly devoid of bitterness.

To be honest, Courfeyrac didn’t want to be alone either. it was a miracle Combeferre had decided to drop by before going to his show, because Courfeyrac didn’t think he had the energy to text - much less call - anyone else. But still. He couldn’t reconciliate keeping his friend from his plans, not at the last minute like this, not for something as useless and pathetic-

“You shouldn’t,” he laughed desperately, trying to sound a least close to normal. It didn’t work; a tear escaped from behind his eye and ran down his cheek, and his voice broke. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the way he knew Combeferre would look at him. “I’m no fun at all like this.”

He felt the cushion of the couch dip as Combeferre sat down next to him. Good, Courfeyrac thought. Maybe the cushion would keep dipping and dipping and swallow him whole until he could feel nothing and be nothing-

Warm, dry fingers started threading through his hair, gently messaging his scalp.

“I don’t care,” Combeferre’s tone was as steady and no-nonsense as ever and Courfeyrac felt himself tear up again. “Courfeyrac. I really don’t care. I’m not your friend because you’re fun. Which you are, of course. But you being fun is not a condition for my friendship. It’s not why I love you. It’s not why we all love you.”

When Courfeyrac failed to respond after a moment, he continued, still running his long fingers through the dark curls.

“We love you because you’re you, Courfeyrac. You, as a person. Because you’re generous, and kind, and warm. Because you’re impulsive and stubborn, because you give us everything to make sure we’re happy, even when you aren’t happy yourself,” he reached down to kiss Courfeyrac’s cheek. “We love you for who you are, everything, good and bad. Alright? So I can leave you be tonight, if you’d rather be alone. But a night spent with you, especially when you need it, is never wasted. You’re never a waste of time. Never.”

“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac was crying in earnest now, hiding his face against Combeferre’s leg. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Courfeyrac could feel Combeferre’s smile, the quiet warmth radiating off it.

“Yeah. Yeah, please.”

“Good,” Combeferre squeezed his shoulder. “We can order something to eat then we can watch a DVD, would you like that?”

“I’d love that.”


End file.
